What Never Was
by bejou
Summary: Eleven year old Harry dreams odd things about what could have been. They can be good, and they can be just as hauntingly evil.


**What Never Was**

**Warning: Nothing really. Might make you cry?**

**Disclaimer: Not mine!**

**A/N: I should be updating Sticks and Stones, but I wrote this a few days ago. I thought it was pretty spiffy, and wanted to post it!**

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A mother held her baby close. The baby giggled as she rocked him back and forth. The father came down the stairs and watched them with a smile on his face.

A happy home.

The father continued down the stairs and took his son into his arms. He lifted the baby boy into the air. The giggles intensified and the mother shrieked. The father gave into the reprimands of his wife and sat the baby in his crib.

The little boy curled up and sighed as he pulled his blanket to his chest. Both mother and father held hands as they watched their son slowly fall asleep.

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The ball flew through the air. At one end of the yard, a little boy stood, his hands out, waiting. The ball landed in his small hand with a plop.

The boy smiled and held the ball up, waving his hand triumphantly so the men on the opposite side of the yard could see.

The three men clapped and hollered loudly. The little boy threw the ball back, and the men scrambled to catch it. They failed on purpose. The boy fell over laughing.

From the house, a door opened. A woman with fiery hair walked out.

"Time for dinner boys." Her voice was warm.

"But mommy…" The little boy whined. The three men echoed their own complaints, and she smiled with a shake of her head.

"Just a few more minutes then." She walked back inside.

On the lawn, the ball players rejoiced.

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The boy held both his father and his mother's hands. He was hiding the best he could as they walked through the streets.

Mother and Father both seemed relaxed, but they squeezed their son's hand periodically. The boy watched the shops as they passed. He was searching for something. He saw it coming up and he tugged at his dad's hand. They stopped and the boy pointed.

Father threw back his head and laughed deeply. Mother just smiled. The little boy tugged his parents over eagerly.

Ice cream.

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Family and friends sat around a large, colorful Christmas tree. Brightly wrapped packages were stacked to overflowing at its base. The warmth and happiness that filled the room was unmistakable. Especially when a screech of glee came from the center of the group.

A little boy sat amid a pile of Christmas paper from packages he had frantically unwrapped earlier. He had stopped his present war path though. Now he sat still. His green eyes were wide and bright. In his hands he held a special present.

He had been asking for it all year. He had bugged his parents until they were ready to lock him up.

The room was silent and all its occupants were looking at the boy. They all had smiles on their faces. Everyone knew how badly the boy had wanted this present.

The boy's parents patted his head.

"Do you like your present son?" His father finally asked.

The boy nodded, his smile, if possible, more brilliant than before. He ran his hands gently up and down his gift.

"This is the best Christmas ever." He whispered.

Around him people happily began chattering again. Somewhere a camera began flashing.

The little boy ignored this and the rest of his presents. He had eyes only for one after all. The rest rather paled in comparison. He stood up and went over to tug his father's sleeve.

"Can I take it outside daddy?"

His father looked down and then repeated the question in his wife's ear. Mother hesitated, but someone spoke up.

"Let him go. If you left him start practice now, he'll be better than his old man in no time!"

Those around them laughed loudly. The little boy hopped from one foot to the other in anticipation. His mother smiled at him.

"Just be careful." She said.

With that, he was out the door with a high pitched squeal of uncontained glee.

It **was **his first broom.

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The boy sat on an old man's lap by the fireplace. He tugged the man's long beard.

"Are you my grandpa?"

"No dear boy."

"Are you Santa Claus?"

""No." The old man was smiling indulgently.

"Are you the Man in the Moon?"

"That seems like a neat job." The man nodded.

"So you're the Man in the Moon?"

"I am." The man took out a tin of candies. "Lemon drop?"

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The boy sat up in bed. He quickly untangled himself from his blankets and dashed down the hall on tip toe. He opened the door to his parents' room. He hurried to the bed side and scrambled up. His mother sat up slowly.

"What's wrong sweetheart?"

"I had a nightmare…Can I sleep with you?" He yawned as he finished his sentence.

His smiled and lifted the quilt so he could crawl under. He snuggled into her side and fell right back to sleep.

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It was his eighth birthday. He had his cake, been sung to, and opened all his gifts. He was now sitting on the floor playing a board game with his dad. His mother came over.

"You have one more present." She whispered into his ear. He looked up at her and cocked his head to the side.

"Your father and I decided you were old enough this year." She walked away from him. She disappeared into the next room for a moment, and when she returned she held a wriggling puppy in her arms.

He ran over and scooped the puppy out of her arms and snuggled it. The puppy licked his face and he giggled.

"What are you going to name it?" his father asked.

"Current." He replied. It seemed to fit, and the puppy licked the boy's face after he said it as if to confirm his approval. Then the boy fell backwards and they began wrestling on the floor.

The boy suddenly remembered something. He sat up panting. "Thank you." He said before the puppy tumbled into his chest and he was distracted again.

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They were at the train station. The boy hugged his mother tightly.

"I don't wanna go to school. Can't I stay home sick?"

His parents smiled.

"It will be fun, and we'll see you again soon. For Christmas remember? It's only a few months away." His father said.

The boy hugged his parents again. Then he reluctantly walked away, his head hanging low.

His parents shook their heads, and only smiled proudly as their only son boarded the big, red train.

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Harry sat up in bed.

'If only…' he thought.

But it was impossible. His parents were dead and he was with the Dursleys.

He blinked wearily. It was dark out still. Maybe two in the morning. He had only a few more hours to sleep. He settled back into the covers but just as he was about to close his eyes, he saw a grey shroud hovering in the corner of his cupboard.

He shot up quickly. A shriek of terror only came out as whimper. The shroud held up a ghostly gristled hand.

"You've nothing to fear from me Harry. I am merely the ghost of What Never Was."

Harry quivered under his blankets. "You've come to torment me then?"

"Of course." The shroud laughed and its once grey, lifeless eyes flashed red. Harry gasped as a faint memory tugged at him. He knew those eyes.

"I know you. I….remember…YOU! You are the reason that it never was. You killed my parents." Eleven year old Harry started to cry softly.

The shroud only looked on with an evil grin. "So you remember me Potter? Good. Without that hatred o me, your destiny cannot be fulfilled."

"There's no such thing as destiny. Nothing happens by chance." Harry gave his best meek look. He didn't want this monster to hurt him.

The man sat down beside Harry and caressed his scar. Harry couldn't feel the touch and it scared him down to his core. This is what nightmares were made from.

"Believe what you will young one. But your dreams will never be because they never were."

And Harry watched the man disappear into the dark gloom of the most shadowed corner of his 'room'. Soon, all that was left of the vision of horror was the echo of his wicked, spine tingling laugh.


End file.
